One Small Duel Can Change The World
by 0 Jordinio 0
Summary: One small change in the timeline can have drastic repercussions. The aftershock of one Hufflepuff's sense of fair play cuts away at the threads woven by fate, and suddenly the future isn't clear anymore. The tock is clicking and Harry Potter will find that becoming the equal of the Dark Lord isn't quite as simple as it sounds. Death awaits, silent and unforgiving.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. I know, I know it's been a while since I've updated and I'm really really sorry about that. But got my writer's block has been killer lately. I've barely been able to write anything at all.**

**I've worked on a few things besides my other stories while trying to work through this block. And in the process thought up and planned almost an entire plot for a Harry Potter/Final Fantasy 13 Trilogy crossover. I've written the prologue of it and worked a bit on the first chapter, however I don't think I'll be working on it much until I get my copy of Lightning Return's.**

**As for this story. Well, it started off as a one shot I posted on the Work By Author thread on DLP Forums and I decided to stick with it to use to try and work past my block. This here is just a prologue, and I hope for how short it is that you enjoy it. I mean, it's only like 2550 words long and that's pretty short by my definition.**

**So yeah, enjoy.**

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…..When he'd said that they'd settle this predicament fairly, this was not what he had in mind.

He side-stepped the turquoise blue colored bolt of energy slung at him as neatly as possible, hissing slightly through gritted teeth as his leg – injured earlier during the confrontation with the massive Acromantula – throbbed intensely with a searing pain.

His opponent, Cedric Diggory, the so called 'very handsome' seeker of Hufflepuff House and Triwizard Champion slashed his wand through the air, the tip beginning to glow with a crimson red light.

Harry lashed out first though, intent on not allowing the older and more experienced Champion enough time to complete the wand movements needed to unleash whatever spell he had in mind. "_Expelliarmus_!" He declared. It was by far the spell he was best at during this point in time. Ample use had allowed him to cut down on wand movements to a simple jab and he sent the spell soaring at top speeds with barely a flick of his wrist.

Cedric barely even had to react in order to dodge the scarlet colored bolt of energy. His experience shone through as he took one quick step to the side and avoided the spell altogether, continuing on through with his spell even as he did so.

Harry barely had time to react before a crimson red spell was sent heading his way. He barely limped to the side and avoided the spell, but upon looking up his eyes widened in complete surprise behind his glasses as a second of the same spell was released right behind the other followed up with another two of the spell blitzing in from behind it.

It was only the instincts he'd acquired throughout his years as a seeker for Gryffindor that allowed him to react quickly enough. He slashed his wand downward. "_Protego_!"

A transparent, light blue dome shimmered into existence straight in front of him, just in time for the first of the barrage to recoil off of it and get sent careening high up into the air where the spell fizzled out of existence. Harry felt his legs buckle underneath him as the spell impacted his shield, and not a moment later followed by the final two of the four – same – spell barrage.

The next bounced off the shield again and was sent flying off to the side, out of his view. But his shield lost the luster of its light and when the final spell hit it. The shield shattered like glass and with enough force behind it that Harry was literally blown off of his feet and sent flying backwards a couple of metres, landing painfully on his back.

The duel – if it could even be called that – should have been over there. But it seemed things were finally going his way once as he caught a lucky break. Staggering slightly as he struggled to his feet once again, he was just in time to see the last spell of the barrage rocketing back towards Cedric at twice the velocity of before it struck his _Protego_ shield.

Cedric barely broke his stride though, so much for things going his way for once. The older champion whispered an incantation under his breath and a small deep blue coloured dome fazed into existence around his free hand. It looked a lot like the _Protego_ shield really, except miniature in comparison.

Harry actually found himself blinking in surprise when Cedric physically smacked his returned spell away with the shield covered hand as if it were an annoying insect. _What kind of spell was that_? Harry wondered.

The black haired teen shook his head. He'd think about it later, for now he took advantage of the slight distraction in Cedric's barrage of spells on him. Instead, he followed up with a barrage of his own.

"_Impedimenta_! _Stupefy_! _Stupefy_!" The Impediment Jinx was followed up with two stunners right behind it, making up a combination of one blue spell followed by two light red ones.

The Impediment Jinx was dodged quickly, however even someone as experienced as Cedric seemed to be in dueling couldn't dance around attacks as fast as his spells were launched. The first stunner was sent flying off up into the air by the shield still shimmering a deep blue around Cedric's free hand.

That seemed to be all the shield could take though, as just like Harry's _Protego_ shield it shattered behind the power of the spell. Cedric's face contorted in surprise as the shield broke and he was sent skidding back a few steps, his heels digging deeply into the grass below them.

The older teen looked up with a deer caught in the headlights expression, and despite himself Harry felt hope swell in his chest. Surely Cedric couldn't dodge the final stunner he'd thrown at him at the speed it was going?

Wrong.

Cedric was a seeker just like he was. Someone used to having to react in a split moment. The older boy dropped to his stomach, pressing himself flat into the grass and allowed the stunning spell to fly off into darkness of the maze they were in.

Harry jabbed his wand out. The younger of the two champions launched another stunner at his downed opponent, but missed again as the older boy rolled to the side and jabbed his own wand upwards at Harry. "_Incarcerous_!" The older boy bellowed, speaking his spell for the first time since their duel began.

Harry barely had time to react before two lengths of conjured rope ensnared him around the ankles and pulled back harshly. He fell forward, still clutching his wand tightly and smacked his head into the grass covered ground beneath himself.

His head rocked from the impact, and his vision swam but he held on. It was true that he would have given the Triwizard Cup up if Cedric would have just taken it, but the older teen had his own sense of fair play and believed that the only way this could be settled was with a duel between the both of them, and the winner could take the Triwizard Cup with no hard feelings.

"_It's only fair Harry_. _You helped me and I helped you_, _but if you just gave up here and allowed me to win I'll always be second guessing myself, questioning if I really was the best champion for Hogwarts_. _And the same is true in reverse_, _if you beat me here there isn't anybody who can deny you as the champion of our school_, _because then you'd be better than me and that means if there weren't an age line you'd have been picked over me to represent us_."

He could have taken a dive. But his pride wouldn't allow him. This was a competition between he and Cedric now. Fleur and Krum were already down and out. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't still smarting over that defeat he'd had at Cedric's hands back in his third year because of the Dementors. It was the only time he'd ever been beaten to the snitch, and because of outside interference at that.

Cedric was already back on his feet by the time Harry had fired off two quick _Diffindo_ charms in order to sever the ropes around his legs.

His eyes widened as he looked up. Cedric waved his wand, conjuring a dozen gleaming silver darts and with a flick of his wand banished them towards Harry's prone form. He barely got his shield up on time due to his position on the ground. But at the last second he managed it and he sighed in relief as the darts crashed into his shield and failed to penetrate it, falling limply to the ground after losing their momentum, their tips blunted and rounded from the impact.

And then it was only instincts alone that saved Harry from having a chunk taken out of one of his legs. Behind him, the severed ropes of Cedric's rope conjuration spell melded together and formed into a medium sized, brown furred dog.

His _Reducto_ curse met the dog's unprotected back as it lunged right past him when he moved aside and the advanced Transfiguration was obliterated, falling apart into its original form in pieces of charred rope.

His breathing was heavy as he met Cedric's eyes with his own. He stumbled as his leg throbbed with intense pain once again and buckled underneath him. And as the blood ran freely down his leg, his vision began to swim once again and he began to feel slightly dizzy due to his blood loss from the injury he'd received from the Acromantula.

_Shit_! Shit! What was that spell Lupin had used on Ron last year when he'd gotten his leg broken by Sirius? Ferula? Or was it Fazula? Fuck, he just couldn't remember it fully. Would it even work anyway if he got the incantation right?

He stayed still on one knee, his eyes still locked with Cedric. The older boy was frowning slightly, "I guess we won't be able to find out who's better deserving as Champion then eh? You can barely even stay conscious cuz' of that wound." He stated. The older boy raised his wand, "It was a good duel Harry, but this is where it ends."

One chance. That was all he had.

Just as Cedric raised his wand, the tip beginning to glow a red colour. Harry tapped his injured leg with his own wand, "_Ferula_!" He shouted loudly, focusing all his efforts into replicating the spell he'd once seen his Professor use.

The pain lessened. His leg tightly bound as conjured bandages wrapped tightly around the wound on his leg.

"_Stupefy_." Was Cedric's spell of choice to end the duel.

Harry done the only thing that came to mind. In the split second that he had before the stunning spell would have hit him, he tucked his head and neck deeply into his shoulders and rolled forward.

The stunning spell sailed over him, missing by barely an inch. Harry came out of his roll in a crouch infront of Cedric who looked at him in surprise. Instinct had been the only thing that allowed Harry to last this long in the duel, so he let it guide him.

As he came out of his roll, Harry had already performed the needed wand movement for his next spell and tapped the fingleress glove of his free hand with his wand, "_Duro_!" He incanted. The leather of the gloves became stone and Harry done the first thing that came to mind.

He punched Cedric straight in the middle of his solar plexus. His one sure fire way when he was younger to keep Dudley wary of him when they were alone.

Cedric gave a gasp of pain and stumbled back, and Harry's hand lurched in pain. But he ignored it and jabbed his wand at Cedric's stumbling form, "_Stupefy_!" He cried out.

The red stunning spell practically exploded from his wand with all the force of a cannon. Cedric having heard the incantation of the spell managed to whirl back around to face the spell, clutching his stomach in one hand and attempted to cast what Harry assumed would be a shield charm in order to repel the stunning charm.

But he was far to slow in reacting and the red bolt of energy impacted harshly against his chest and blew him off his feet, blue fragments of a less than half formed shield exploding outward from the impact site. The Hufflepuff seeker flew back a few feet and landed with a solid thump in the grass, completely out of it.

Breathing heavily, so much so that his pants of breath came out in short wheezes, Harry limped to his feet and walked slowly over to Cedric's unconscious form. The older teen looked almost peaceful to Harry as he looked down at his slack face, and would have fully looked peaceful if it weren't form the slew of bleeding cuts that lined his face and arms.

Harry was quite honestly at a loss as to what to do now. He'd won. He'd somehow came out in top in a tournament he had no place in participating in. And not only that, he'd actually managed to defeat Cedric Diggory in a one on one duel, all by himself while injured.

He'd always known he was talented at Defense Against The Dark Arts. But he'd never knew he was good enough that he could defeat the supposed best student at Hogwarts. Because that's what Cedric was, or else the Goblet of Fire wouldn't have chosen him.

Looking at Cedric once again, he couldn't help but smile. Was he really good enough that he could compete with this older and far more experienced boy? Or was it all just luck? Either way, Harry couldn't help the swell of pride that surged in his chest.

The one thing he did know though was that outmatched or not, he managed to match Cedric. His repetoire of spells was smaller than Cedric's, less advanced and he was less experienced with the spells he did know in comparison with Cedric because he was bound to know them all aswell and had more time with them.

He lifted his wand up and sent red sparks soaring up into the dark night sky above him. And when he was done with that he turned and began limping his way towards the Triwizard Cup.

…..That small shield Cedric cast around his hand to bat spells away with was pretty cool though. He would definitely be asking Hermione about it when he had the chance, being able to smack spells away like that was dead useful.

It took him a few moments, wincing with every step he took due to his leg. Even bandaged, and with the pain lessened from his newest spell it still smarted something fierce. "God I hope I never see another Acromantula as long as I live." The black haired teen muttered to himself in annoyance. How Hagrid had such a soft spot for Aragog and his brood was beyond him. He was beginning to understand Ron's fear of spiders more and more these days.

He shook his head and rid himself of such thoughts as he reached the brightly gleaming silver Triwizard Cup. He took it in, appraising the silver cup. From its gleaming silver, to the glowing turquoise blue light streaming form inside the chalice. It truly was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

His exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. His eyelids felt so heavy. So heavy infact that he felt as if he allowed his eyes to close for even a few seconds he'd probably fall asleep standing up.

Best get this over with before that happened Harry supposed. It would be a right brass neck if that happened.

He reached up and grabbed the cup with his free hand, his gloves still covered in stone from his _Duro_ charm, keeping it clenched in a loose fist. Almost as soon as he grabbed the cup, Harry wished he hadn't. The very landscape around him spun fast and out of view and his stomach clenched with a very familiar nausea he related travelling by Portkey.

….._I should have just taken a dive._

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**Well that's that.**

**I apologize for how short it was. But the good news is that I've got quite a bit of the plot for this story planned out already and I've already started on the next chapter. So yeah, if all goes well on my end I should probably post it within the next few days.**

**Later guys, until next time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I'm back already. Less than a day later for an update, that's pretty good considering how hard it is to write with this writer's block.**

**I used some parts out of the Goblet of Fire chapter were the Death Eaters return to Voldemort's side. But that was more due to the fact that I've not diverged entirely from canon at this point. Next chapter is where the big diverges from canon start.**

**But no worries about this being a copy & paste from that Goblet of Fire chapter. I used about 1000 words from that chapter at most give or take a couple hundred.**

**It feels a little stunted, mostly Harry's part in this chapter. But I think it's okay for now. I'll probably go back and edit it later on.**

**Anyway, I don't wanna hold you guys up any longer so I'll end this Author's Note here. Enjoy, hopefully.**

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His senses came back to him abruptly, and Harry found himself falling forward as his injured leg gave way beneath him. The black haired teen sat there for a moment, only supported by his two arms pressed as hard as he could against the grass covered soil beneath him, breathing deeply with his eyes closed behind his glasses.

His stomach lurched and the teen was barely able to keep the bile rising up from his throat, the blood loss from his fight with the Acromantula and the sudden nausea he felt from the surprise Portkey trip doing a number on his constitution.

He looked up after another few moments, his breath coming in long deep pants, "W-where am I?" Harry muttered lowly to himself. The grass all around him was overgrown and in the darkness of the night he could barely make out the figures of tombstones all around him and what looked to be a church a bit off in the distance.

A graveyard then, lovely.

His stomach finally settled a bit, enough for his thoughts to not be so muddled on him through the uncomfortable feeling and he wondered, just why was he in a graveyard?

Slowly, he pushed himself shakily to his feet, his wand still clasped loosely in his right hand. He looked down at the gleaming silver cup at his feet before surveying his dark, dank surroundings again. He'd won the tournament, he'd grabbed the bloody cup so why the heck wasn't he currently enjoying the celebrations with his friends and getting the medical attention he so desperately wanted and needed.

Could it be another final Task? One hidden in the shadow of the Third Task to see if he was worthy of being the Triwizard Tournament Champion?

That had to be it, he decided almost desperately. But still, even though he thought that he couldn't quite stop himself from looking around the darkness of the graveyard warily, half expecting a Dementor or something to jump out at him and suck out his soul.

His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and all he wanted to do was get some sleep at this point. So Harry forced himself to start moving, best to find whoever Dumbledore had waiting here and claim his win or whatever he was supposed to do.

He had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. And then he heard it, the soft rhythmical footfalls of someone walking over grass. Harry almost sighed in relief when he saw a short shadowed figure just a bit taller than he was slowly making its way over towards him.

Harry lowered his wand slightly that he'd raised on instinct alone as he took the figure in. Like he thought as they got closer, they weren't much taller than him and whoever it may be, was wearing a dark hooded cloak pulled up over their head and in their arms they looked to be carrying what seemed to be a... baby?

Harry raised one eyebrow in sudden curiosity, and then the curiosity was gone. Suddenly he was on his knees again as an agony like nothing he'd ever felt before seared intensely behind his scar.

Even as he twitched and spasmed on the ground while clutching at his scar though, an all too familiar fear was beginning to spread through his body. Even through the pain he could piece it all together, after all there was only one person in the entire world his scar flared up in pain around.

Voldemort, he was here!

Through glossy eyes, filled with many unshed tears due to the pain he was currently going through Harry looked up. And he met the eyes of a traitor.

"You!" The raven haired teen growled out, a sudden rage filling his entire being. Suddenly Voldemort didn't matter, the blinding pain behind his scar didn't matter. Here was one of the reasons his life was so hellish. Here was the reason Voldemort found his parents in the first place, here was the person responsible for his godfather spending twelve years in Azkaban with the Dementors slowly being driven mad!

His arm began to slowly lift up as if of its own accord, twitching and spasming along with the rest of his body. Harry ignored his arm though, he only had eyes for the ugly rat like face of the man who betrayed his parents, Peter Pettigrew.

"Hello Harry, it's nice to see you again." The rat of a man suddenly spoke up, smiling at him as if they were old pals. It was an ugly smile Harry thought, an ugly smile for an ugly pathetic man.

Harry's breathing picked up. How dare he even speak his name, as if he had the right to with what he'd done! There were no words to describe his rage, his sheer hate of this balding ugly excuse of a man. Last year he saved his life in hopes of getting Sirius freed, but this time Harry could not feel it in him to try for it. He just wanted to see this piece of filth dead!

Through the blinding, searing pain raging out at him from his scar Harry saw the tip of his wand begin to glow with an ominous green light, "Avada-" He began with a rage filled hiss, sounding almost like he would slip into Parsletongue at any moment.

There was still some hope in the situation. Maybe, just maybe, if he brought the body back with him to Hogwarts they could finally see that Pettigrew hadn't been blown to pieces by Sirius and the Ministry could finally give him that trial he deserved.

But before he could even finish the two word incantation for the spell that would reap vengeance for Sirius and his parents, and avenge the rat man's betrayal of them, he was suddenly hit by a powerful bolt of red energy rocketing from a wand held within one of the tiny fists of the baby Pettigrew was holding.

And then all Harry saw was darkness.

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He stirred and the world came back to him in a whirlwind of pain and blinding colors behind is eyes. His scar throbbed harder than any headache he'd ever experienced in his entire life and his arm sticky with fresh blood felt as if it was on fire.

Through woozy half-lidded eyes, Harry locked onto a tall figure standing in front of him and almost recoiled in disgust when his vision cleared enough for him to get a good look at the figure.

Like a snake taken on a human form was the best way the man in front of him could be described. With a body whiter than a human skill and gleaming red slitted eyes. Clad in a robe of the darkest black, hanging from his tall frame like a gliding shadow.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Wormtail knelt off to the side of the Dark Lord, cradling a handless arm and whimpering softly. Harry barely even noticed the traitor of his parents, no his attention had been completely enraptured by the monstrosity of a man standing in front of him.

Voldemort's slitted red eyes peered at him, filled to the brim with amusement and the snake like man let out a high, cold laugh. "How nice of you to join us Harry Potter." He said, his voice sounding almost like a pleased purr.

Harry shivered in both sheer terror and revulsion.

Red met green and a staring contest between the two took place. Voldemort eyed him with a certain murderous gleam in his eyes that terrified Harry to no end and it took all the teen had to not let his terror show upon his countenance.

The staring contest was interrupted by Pettigrew's whimpering, "My Lord... please... you promised..."

Voldemort eyed the balding little man lazily from the corner of his eye, idly spinning his wand slowly between long spindly fingers, "Your arm, Wormtail." He instructed with a droll, but Harry just knew that it was more of a demand than anything else.

"Oh... thank you master...thank you!" Pettigrew continued, softly sobbing. His small beady eyes were secreting a flow of tears and Harry began to feel sick just by looking at him, he looked like some overgrown and excruciatingly ugly baby.

Voldemort laughed coldly once again, "Your _other_ arm, Wormtail." He demanded softly.

Pettigrew sputtered slightly and began to beg and plead once again, but Voldemort was having none of it. With a rough jerk of his arm, the Dark Lord grabbed him by his non-disfigured arm and dragged the sleeve up over his elbow exposing a vivid red tattoo, a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth as a tongue.

With a start Harry realized just what it was. He'd seen it before, at the Quidditch World Cup when those Death Eater's had caused such a riot. The Dark Mark.

"It is back." Voldemort intoned softly, "Now we shall see, now we will know who is brave enough to return to my side and who is so cowardly and foolish that they stay away."

Then he pressed one long spindly white finger against the tattoo and Harry felt his scar sear with pain. Wormtail howled all the louder from some fresh new bout of pain and through pain filled eyes, Harry could make out the tattoo turning from a burning red to cold, shadow-like black.

The snake-like man then began to pace softly in front of Harry, his eyes watching him intently and gleaming brightly with a sort of fascination and satisfaction.

It was a look that sent shivers down his spine. The idea that he was going to die here was a very possible thing here and now.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my father." Voldemort suddenly began.

Harry jerked in surprise at that, twisting slightly as he attempted to instinctively look at the tombstone he was bound tightly to.

TOM RIDDLE.

There, just a bit underneath his legs was the name he'd learned back in his second year at Hogwarts. "Muggle, and a fool just like your dear mother, but he proved useful in the end, better late than never I'm sure." Voldemort continued onwards, hardly pausing at all as Harry attempted to get a better look at where he was bound.

The insult against his mother stung though, his heart constricted painfully in his chest. "My mother was a great witch!" Harry hissed out at the man, if he could even be called that any more, a familiar anger beginning to blossom in his chest and without realizing it he embraced it.

How dare this monster look down upon his mother!

His head suddenly rocked to the side from the painful backhand he received courtesy of his cheek. The raven haired teen growled lowly, green eyes flashing with murderous intent as he tasted the coppery metallic taste of blood swirling around inside his mouth.

"Now now Harry, do not interrupt your betters when they are speaking." Voldemort chided him softly, wagging one long finger in front of his face as if scolding a naughty child. "But still, the reminiscing of the past is not needed. Watch Harry, as my true family returns to me."

As if out of nowhere they came. From the shadows they appeared, circling all around Voldemort each one covered in hooded black robes and silver masks. Slowly they approached, looking to Harry as if they couldn't quite believe Voldemort was standing in front of them, returned from the grave.

One of them fell to his knees, crawling over to Voldemort like a faithful dog and began to kiss at the hem of his robes. Harry felt his insides turn with revulsion – _this_ was a Death Eater? The monsters Ron and others who grew up in the Wizarding World talked about in such fear? Harry almost wished he was free so he could kick the man as hard as he possibly could, if he wanted to act like such a useless little dog then he should be treated as such. He reminded Harry of Aunt Marge's dog Ripper and that made him want to hurt the man all the more. A submissive little psychophant for sure.

"Master... Master." He murmured breathlessly as if in awe of his lord's form.

Slowly, one by one the other Death Eater's followed his example and they all began to crowd around Voldemort on their knees, each one attempting to get ahead of the other and kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes.

It was disgusting. These were the so called pure of blood? The elite of society? Harry couldn't believe it at all, that they bowed like such willing slaves to a man they were supposedly better than. Even Harry himself had more magical blood in him than Voldemort did! At least his mother was a witch, Muggleborn or not.

It was utterly pathetic and Harry was filled with contempt at the sight of them. His earlier fear of Voldemort pushed aside, but hardly forgotten at the site of these pieces of misbegotten... trash.

Yes, Harry decided suddenly. That word fit these men to a tee, they were trash.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters." Voldemort suddenly cut them off softly, "Thirteen years... thirteen years since we last met, yet you answer my call as if it were merely yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark then, or are we?"

He lifted his snake-like face almost haughtily and sniffed through the slits that acted as his nose now, "I smell guilt, guilt and fear. The stench of both waft through the air like something foul."

Voldemort suddenly looked down at them, red slit eyes filled with contempt, "I see you all, whole and healthy with your powers intact and I find myself wondering why not one of you came to the aid of their weakened master whom they swore eternal loyalty to."

Voldemort continued onwards, his voice almost that of a furious whisper carried throughout the graveyard by the wind, "I find myself asking did they believe I was broken? Defeated? They who knew the steps I had taken to guard myself against any mortal death, they who had seen the proof of how my power towered far above any wizard alive, and then I answered myself perhaps they believed still a great power could exist, perhaps they have deserted me to join the side of the champion of commoners, Mudbloods and Muggles alike – Albus Dumbledore."

There was short cry of denial from one of them as whispers spread around the group of kneeling Death Eaters, "No Master! We would never! We are loyal! Please, Forgive us Master!"

Voldemort raised his wand, "_Crucio_!"

There was a flash of red light and before the man could react, it impacted against his chest area and he fell to the grass covered soil beneath him screaming his longs out to the heavens above, twitching and jerking along the ground he lay on.

Harry almost wished someone could hear the loud echoing scream and possibly phone the police. But there was no point, what could a small group of Muggle Police Officers do against Voldemort and his Death Eaters?

The answer was nothing, they'd be slaughtered. So Harry kept his wishes to himself, if he was going to die here he would not drag innocent people down alongside him.

And then Voldemort, after a few more seconds, let go of the curse and the man in Death Eater robes fell stiff and near silent. The only sound coming from him being little, high pitched sobs.

Harry wondered if it was wrong that he felt a surge of vindication that this murderer was feeling pain of retribution even if it was at the hands of his evil master.

"Get up Avery, all of you get up!" Voldemort commanded sharply.

They were all quick to jump to their feet as fast as they could, only the now named Avery and Wormtail slowly staggering behind from the pain they were no doubt going through from losing a hand and being put under the Cruciatus Curse respectively.

"You ask forgiveness?" Voldemort hissed coldly, "I do not forgive, and I do not forget. I want thirteen years, thirteen long years of repayment before I forgive any of you." Then he paused and looked down over his slitted nose at Wormtail, "I do suppose you came back to me Wormtail, though not out of loyalty but out of fear of what your friends and Potter would do to you should they catch you."

The Dark Lord smirked, "You deserve this pain, do you not, Wormtail?" He inquired.

Pettigrew was quick to nod his head like a good little minion, hand or no hand. "Yes Master...but please...I beg you Master."

Voldemort looked him over again, his smirk inching up slightly, "I suppose you do deserve a reward of some kind, after all you did help return me to my body and that is much more than I can say about these traitorous fools." He said, gesturing to the crowd of Death Eaters who once again erupted in whispers of denial and pleas for forgiveness.

Again, Harry felt the disgust well up inside him. How could anyone with a semblance of pride in themselves bow down like a lowly dog to such a murderous being?

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into splinters.

"My Lord," He whispered, almost reverently. "Master, it is beautiful... thank you... a thousand times thank you my Master!" He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again." Voldemort said, "For if it does, death shall be a mercy." He said it while looking at Wormtail, but the message was clear. It was a statement they were all to abide by or they would wish for death at the treatment he would them by his own hand.

He dismissed Wormtail with a wave of his hand and the rat looking man was quick to obey and jump to his feet, taking his place among the circle of gathered Death Eaters.

Voldemort then moved on, walking slowly his way around all of the Death Eaters. He stopped short at the left empty between two of the Death Eaters, a gap big enough for three people. "The Lestranges should stand here. But they are entombed within the depths of Azkaban, they were faithful, unlike you all and went to to Azkaban rather than announce me, when I tear down the walls of that wretched prison they will be rewarded beyond their dreams." He said, "The Dementors," He continued, "Will join us, they are our natural ally after all and we will recall the banished giants...I shall have my devoted servants once again and an army of creatures whom all will fear to stand against."

Despite himself, Harry shivered in fear. He watched silently through half lidded eyes - the blood loss from his wounds on both his leg and arm making him light-headed and woozy - as the murderer of his parents talked on in his grandoise manner, he barely batted an eye when he talked about his imprisoned servants and the giants. But the Dementors were another thing entirely, even now he could feel the chill in his bones from when they were close.

Voldemort walked on. Some of his Death Eaters he passed by silently, until he came to a stop in front of a tall man. "Macnair, destroying beasts for the Ministry of Magic now I hear? You shall have better victims soon my servant, Lord Voldemort will provide."

Recognition jolted through Harry's head. Macnair, that was the guy who was brought up by Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy to execute Buckbeak.

Bastard.

"Thank you Master, thank you." The tall Death Eater murmured lowly.

Next, Voldemort stopped infront of three more Death Eaters. Two large hulking Death Eaters, while the third, much skinnier and shorter was practicaly hidden in their shadows. "You will do better this time won't you, Crabbe, Goyle?" Voldemort asked.

The two clumsily bowed to their lord, muttering on drolly about how they wouldn't fail him. And then Voldemort turned his attention on the third hiding in their shadows, "That goes double for you Nott, I won't have your ineptitude failing so royally again, are we understood?"

Nott practically leaped into a bow, "My lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful-

Voldemort snorted, "That will be all Nott." He dismissed and continued on his way. Harry found himself somewhat amused as the smallish man slumped forward in what looked to be dejection. It was best to get all the amusement he could out of this before he got a killing curse to the face, there was very little chance he would escape this he supposed.

Harry shivered again involuntarily, he was going to die. He was trying to make light of it, but the cold feeling at the pit of his stomach was beginning to cloud his mind as well. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself. But he was terrified.

So much for the high and mighty Gryffindor. He tried to psyche himself up, he came from where the brave of heart dwelt did he not? He'd put his life on the line before hadn't he? So why couldn't he find that surge in him to stand up like a man.

He couldn't explain it. There was just something about Voldemort that unsettled him mightily. Inspired such terror that even the Basilisk or Dementors cold not compete.

Harry couldn't even manage to get his hopes up. If he even got a fair fight out of Voldemort for the chance to fight for his life, could he even do anything at all? Sure he'd beaten Cedric but this wall a whole other kettle of fish Voldemort could probably defeat Cedric and kill him in under ten seconds in a real fight.

Not to long ago he'd been blinded by his rage at the betrayer of his parents and had very nearly let loose a killing curse on the man. Harry swallowed hard... he could do it again if he had to, he was sure he could.

Maybe, just maybe.

It was too bad he couldn't Apparate though. If the Death Eaters arrival was anything to go by, there was nothing set up to block Apparition.

Harry was interrupted by Voldemort making his way back over towards the start of the circle of Death Eaters, standing in front of the one at the lead of the circle, "Lucius my slippery little friend." He whispered, his voice hissing slightly. The Death Eaters stirred at the sound, but Voldemort ignored them as he continued on, "I am told you still like to take a little jaunt out in my name every now and then, if your actions at the Quidditch World Cup were anything to go by despite the little farce you put on for the public, like to partake in a little bit of Muggle torture do we?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," Came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me-"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful service in the future."

Harry honestly could not help himself. The sheer fact that it was Malfoy's father licking at Voldemort' heel like an eager puppy lit aflame his earlier thoughts. The rave haired teen snorted, "Trash."

There was a sudden quiet that overtook the graveyard. The Death Eaters seeing him and going silent and for the first time noticing he was there. Voldemort on the other hand whirled around and practically glided over to him, there was a smirk on the Dark Lord's face as he stared down at harry through red slitted eyes, "Oh? And why do you call him trash young Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly.

Harry glared right back at him through his own green eyes, "Because he's a pathetic waste of space just like his failure of a son." Harry replied with a growl, he heard shout of anger coming from Lucius' direction but ignored it, why focus on the peon when he had the attention of the master? "I have no idea why you want a man who couldn't even beat his own House Elf in a fight."

Lucius went quiet at the revelation, and hushed whispers broke out between the other Death Eaters. Voldemort though, again ignored them instead his eyes stayed on Harry and he erupted into a high cold laughter of pure amusement, "Beaten by his own House Elf you say?"

It felt good Harry decided, to have Lucius humiliated in front of his peers and master. It was about the only up-side that happened this night, he got one over on the Malfoy family. After all the vile man had done, he deserved some comeuppance.

Voldemort stopped laughing after a few moments and looked down upon Harry once again, "My young Harry you have quite the viscous tongue on you. If I weren't going to kill you tonight, I dare say you could have gone far in my service." That said, he whirled around and turned his attention on his Death Eaters again.

"My Death Eaters, story of Lucius' pathetic combat prowess aside, please give Harry Potter here a warm welcome. He is, after all, the guest of honour tonight." He told them. They happily tittered at his words and Harry felt the need to snort again, he wasn't sure if they were laughing at him or Lucius.

Voldemort continued onwards, undeterred by the sniggering of his Death Eaters, "You know of course that they have called this boy my downfall, do you not?" He said softly, his eyes turned towards Harry, resting upon his scar and the raven haired teen felt it begin to burn anew, so fiercely that he almost screamed out at the sudden agony, ""You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him - and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. ... I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek. "His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice. . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch him now."

Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.

The pain stopped suddenly and Harry found himself panting deeply. He closed his eyes, attempting to will the pain away to no avail, but still he strained his ears in order to listen to Voldemort speaking. He knew very little of what happened that night, only Voldemort would seeing as he was there and the only one either not dead or a baby at the time, "I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. But still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked ... for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself... for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand." Voldemort continued softly.

"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me. . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body." His slitted red eyes narrowed in anger, "But I waited in vain!" He suddenly hissed in rage.

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing, as if to inspire more guilt and terror within his servants. "Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic . . . and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long."

"Then, four years ago." Voldemort started again after a short pause, "The means for my return seemed assured. A wizard -young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school, he was easy to bend to my will, he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Philosophers Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted . . . thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter. …" His voice crawled to a slow stop, letting that piece of information settle within their minds.

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers. Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour... I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me." One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice, he was far too busy reliving his memories once again of his pain filled existence as a spirit.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last...a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding " Voldemort said.

"He was helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them." The Dark Lord continued, "But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic." He trailed off softly.

"Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams for -with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information." The Dark Lord told them all. And they listened on in silence still, enraptured by his tale.

"She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things. But the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless. "Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth a spell or two of my own invention a little help from my dear Nagini," Voldemorts red eyes fell upon a massive snake slowly slithering around the graveyard and Harry caught sight of it for the first time upn his awakening and jerked slightly at the sight of it, the thing was bloody huge! "A potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel."

"There was no hope of stealing the Philosophers Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength. I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant." Harry's eyes opened slightly at the mention of his revival. He listened intently as he could, little hope or not. If he could somehow ge the information to Dumbeldore the Headmaster could probaly put a stop to Voldemort by undoing the ritual or whatever he done to get his body back, couldn't he? There was nobody as gifted with magic as Dumbledore was after all.

"My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe,Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen." Voldemort told them, idly twirling his wand again, "I wanted Harry Potters blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too."

"But how to get at Harry Potter?" Voldemort seemingly question, "For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there. Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup. I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?" _Protections_? Harry wondered. What protections? Did he mean the one Dumbledore set up using his blood relation to his aunt Petunia, or where there more protections he did not know about?

"Why by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Triwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is, the boy you all believed had been my downfall." Voldemort trailed off once again, spreading one arm out and indicating to Harry in a grandiose manner.

He really had a thing for the theatrics Harry noted snidely in his head.

Voldemort looked him over for a moment, as if studying him carefully, "The boy is talented ofcourse, not as talented as I at his age but talented nonetheless." He told his Death Eaters. Harry felt disgusted with himself when he felt a bit of pride surge in his chest at the compliments, "Dangerous to, indeed he is infact if I did not intervene when the boy arrived Wormtail would have been felled by a Killing Curse from the boy and all my plans would be in ruin, it is lucky that I managed to stun the boy before he fully completed the incantation of the spell."

Voldemort paused here again, but continued onwards a moment later after appraising Harry once again for a moment, "If I were not going to kill the boy, he indeed could have risen up the ranks of my Death Eaters and would surely replace one of you." The snake-like Dark Lord said, "But alas, it was not to be, but fear not young Harry I shall give you the chance to fight for your life."

Voldemort waved his wand idly and the ropes binding Harry to the tombstone of his father vanished. Harry staggered as his feet hit the ground, wincing at the jolt of pain that shot through his injured leg.

His chest swelled, breathing deeply he eyed Voldemort as the older – man? - reached into his dark robe and extracted Harry's wand, eleven inches, Holly and Phoenix feather.

Hope swelled in Harry's chest. He had a chance, slim as it may be. His mind worked a mile a minute as he tried to remember any and all spells that would help him out here. He glanced idly at his left hand, specifically the glove on it which was still coated by a layer of stone thanks to his _Duro_ charm earlier. Good, that would help if he got close to anyone.

Voldemort tossed Harry the wand, and by the time he caught it in his right hand they were both already moving.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Voldemort bellowed. From his wand, rocketing a large bolt of ominous green energy.

After catching his wand, Harry fell into a crouch and allowed the green light of Voldemort's killing curse to sail over his head, strike the tombstone behind him and reduce the statue of it to a fine powdery mist.

He completed the wand movement for his spell as he went down, "_Fumos_!" The raven haired teen incanted with a spiral motion of his wand. Smoke swirled out from his wand as he went through the motions of the spell, and a moment later with a final jab of his wand he called forth a large blinding cloud of dark smoke.

"_Crucio_!" Was Voldemort's next choice of spell from what Harry heard from inside his smokescreen.

He rolled to the side, feeling the sizzle of energy from the spell. He done his best to put it out of mind though, coming out of his roll he winced as he forced himself to quickly stagger to his feet with his momentum.

He continued on with that momentum and used it to spring into a sprint. Using the smokescreen as cover, he ran deeper into the graveyard.

The chase was on.

* * *

**And done. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Some of you probably won't like the way Harry called the Death Eaters trash. I was looking for a word that Harry would use because of his disgust for them and trash just fit for me, despite being more of an American word.**

**I also feel Harry comes off as a bit too at ease with the situation. As if he's un-bothered that he's quite likely gonna die. But then, I am as shit as can be when it comes to writing good characterization.**

**Either way, hope you enjoyed it.**

**Later, guys.**


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